Achan

Indeed 'A better man', that I have known, reading the book; did make me think of him more - and Rishi Kapoors interview with Simi Garewal, and Devi's blog on Fatherless added icing to the pain. Do every Child try to be like his father or want to be better than him?

Like Mukundan in 'The better Man', or how Rishi wanted to maintain a distance with Ranbir as he was with his father Raj Kapoor? Then like Devi who blogs at http://deviharidas.blogspot.com/2020/05/fatherless.html#comment-form ; I too wonder:

How do you get used to a father gone from your midst? The grief first shrouds you, then pulverizes your soul and finally drills a gaping hole that would never get filled..it remains there as a reminder of what was lost and what can never be found.


And it reminds you everyday of the joys and bonds of being a daughter – being a princess to your father – with a father’s death, the ‘daughter of a father’ also dies. It tells you of the smokescreen life that we lead – all the materiality in the world and the flimsiness of it all – it takes but a moment for all this to come crashing down – it took but a few moments for his laughter to end and his presence lost forever. And then I think of the callousness of my complaints – my job, a worthless promotion, a verbal spat with someone and an endless list of troubles…Troubles I call them? How does it even equal in the greatest grief of all – of a parent gone and never to return?


And life changes forever – every silent hour is deafening, absence more prominent than ever before – not a musical note that I can appreciate without tears in my eyes, not a laugh that I can end without thinking of him, not an art performance that I can breathe in without thinking of the man who introduced me to all the art and artists of the world, (the greatest epics of Ramayana and Mahabharath; was wondering who would introduce it to Neil - Thanks to Covid - DD did). And perhaps he left behind a bit of him in me – and each musical note, each chore at home and each rational (and irrational) thought brings me closer to his being.

Perhaps I honour him with each pure thought, each kind word and each rational act and I owe him my unbiased upbringing, my anti-extremist views and the will to never merge into the ‘crowd’ – for with his life he showcased the simplicity of a good life – all it needs is unconditional giving, a will of your own, fair thinking and the grit to live by your own ethos and principles.


And what remains is me and the zillion moments of beauty that he introduced me to for who am I without him – perhaps an extension of him and all I can ensure is to live by his tenets, continue the web of relationships that he spun to perfection, fight for the equality that he always ‘did’ than ‘said’ and continue my journey for appreciating art for simply being art and never anything else.


So I ask myself again - how do you get used to a father gone? The answer is never…